Psychosis
by Gothinthemist
Summary: May and Drew meet in a mental health hospital, and instantly become close. But they both have demons and scars which they want to hide from each other. One slip could break their relationship entirely, or bring them closer. But which one? Contestshipping. Themes of psychotic behavior, self-harm and possible suicide.


His tears; wet salty rivers careening down his face. Shed over the memories of the state he left her. As each saline drop hits his lacerated wrists, he can't help but feel that he deserves to be in the state he's in.

Each tear, a glistening of regret for what he did to her, how he left her. But deep down, he knows that weeping won't help. His tears will do nothing to heal her. Those scars and bruises on her porcelain skin - a reminder to everyone, a reminder of what he did to her. They would slowly heal, but deep within her, the psychological gashes still bled, a crimson flow of turmoil and self loathing. She knew it wasn't her fault, but she still blamed herself. Those wounds would remain forever, a constant reminder to her of him. A hindrance to her in all situations; a wound even time could not heal.

His only salvation was the blade cutting deep into his flesh, the only thing that made him feel truly alive in this living hell brought on by guilt and shame. The scarlet droplets being the only color in this vortex of black; the pain being the only sensation in his otherwise numb existence. All he knew has her face; his so-called life being nothing but the same thing, recurrently, as if his whole existence was a scratched record, condemned to repeat over and over. Pain was his only friend; the people he once got along so well with had cut him permanently out of their lives. He didn't blame them. How he could cause that much torment and suffering to someone he loved -or at least claimed to-, he didn't know.

Brianna.

Her name echoed through his consciousness; it was the only thing that mattered anymore. Him? He wasn't even worthy of a name, or even a title. That right was stripped away from him the moment he destroyed the light in her eyes. Her eyes, those beautiful eyes, which had once been a stunning sapphire, full of love and happiness, he had left a somber blue, dead and lifeless. He had only noticed the defeat and anguish in her dull orbs on the day that she finally managed to break free. What kind of monster was he, if he only noticed the pain he caused once he could no longer inflict it?

He burst into a fresh bout of tears. He brought the blade to his flesh and felt it bite down deeper. He no longer felt any pain; each cut was simply a means of healing himself. Healing the regret and shame that he had brought upon himself. But, no matter how hard he tried, his cuts would be nothing compared to the suffering and torment he had caused her.

The blood was flowing faster now; a scarlet river of poisoned life which he willingly gave up. He offered up his tainted soul as penance for all the pain he inflicted on her. It was all he had left to offer, in comparison to what he took from her. He could feel himself fade away, and he accepted this with rapture; each droplet of blood that left his body was a tiny, yet significant strong towards his redemption, a step closer to who he wanted to be, and a step further away from what he had become.

He opened his mouth, and let loose a garbled, maniacal laugh. Anyone who heard him would think that he was unhinged. Perhaps he was, but he no longer cared; he was finally free! Free from the shackles of regret in his mundane existence.

He could feel it now; a warm embrace emerging from the shadows. It was sickly sweet and comforting, and he accepted it with relish. He relaxed himself, slowly floating off into the much-welcomed darkness. A wave of nostalgia washed over him, as he remembered what was once his life, all those years ago. He thought of his childhood and his school years. But most prominently, he remembered the day he first met her. He was 16, she was 15. He was popular, and she was a friend of a friend. Tears pricked at his eyes. Those days didn't matter anymore. He didn't matter anymore. The only thing that mattered was her, and that she was safe from him.

He felt the tears spill from his eyes for a final time as he began to slip away.

Uh, hey! It's me! I have no idea where this came from, but I'll try and continue this if you like it.

If any of you are reading Chased, sorry! I have a huge writer's block for that story, and I don't have a computer at the moment, so everything it being written on my phone. But I will continue it, just stick with me a little longer. And thanks for staying with me for this long, I know I haven't been the best authoress.

As always, please review, and flames will be used to fry Bacon.


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